I cry uncontrollably, until my chest hurts and my back is clenched and tight. I feel so lost, so hopeless. He was my world. I loved him with a fierceness that took my breath away, and it was all for nothing.
I take a few shaking breaths to calm down so I can drive home. I need to get out of here. I wipe my face with my sleeve and turn on my car. I want to go to Selene’s house and melt into a puddle in her arms, but I can’t. She never knew about us, and now she never will. Because fuck if I’m going to admit that I fell for it—that I was stupid enough to fall for him.
The best part about love was the high. I rode it all the way to the fucking sky, soaring above the world. Until I had Kylie, I don’t think I was ever really happy. I had happy moments, but they were brief and fleeting. With her, I lived each day filled with contentment—the sort of feeling that makes the rush of a hookup, the burn of whiskey, the adrenaline surge of doing something crazy all seem pointless. Those were quick hits that faded almost immediately. Kylie was steady. She made me feel open, like I could finally break down the walls and be who I am with another person.
The crash, though. The crash is killing me.
It was like jumping out of a plane with no parachute—on purpose. The free fall lasted for days. I spun out of control, no idea which way was up or down. I worked out like a maniac, got drunk as fuck, but nothing helped. I just fell, plummeting through the air, knowing I was going to hit the ground, not sure if I’d survive. Or if I wanted to.
Then I hit the dirt. I got home one night and fell into bed, still dressed. I couldn’t move. I spent two days barely functioning. I canceled my appointments, turned off my phone, and let myself drown.
When I turned my phone back on, I knew I wouldn’t have any messages from her. It still hurt like a kick to the gut to see that I didn’t.
Eventually, I got my shit together. I went back to work. I put in extra hours at the gym. I saw my sister. I kept it all in, clawing my way to a new normal.
Because this is life, now. Life without her.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t get her face out of my mind. The way she looked at me that night—so angry. I expected her to be hurt. I steeled myself to see her cry. In some fucked-up version of it, I think I even imagined holding her, being the one to soothe the pain, even though I was the asshole causing it. I wasn’t prepared for such rage.
I’m well aware of how royally I fucked things up, but at this point there’s nothing more I can do about it. I just have to get used to this hollow ache in my chest.
I sit at the bar, staring at my glass of Jameson. I hung out at home for a while after work, but it was too damn quiet. I didn’t even think about where I was going, just took a walk and found myself here.
I glance over at the two blondes sitting nearby. It’s Friday night, and the place is busy, but these two stand out. They’re not here with anyone else, and they’re both dressed like they mean business. Low-cut shirts, tight skirts showing a lot of leg. It’s after one, and their shimmery makeup tells me they probably started out clubbing.
They’ve been watching me for the last ten minutes.
There are several shot glasses in front of each of them, although they’ve been sipping water since I got here. They cast obvious glances at me, looking me up and down. Then they lean toward each other and talk quietly, smiling and laughing.
I could probably have both if I wanted.
They have that look. The one that says I’m in the mood to do something fucking crazy tonight. I could go over to their table, and in five minutes have both walking out the door with me, one on each arm.
I’ve never done it before. A threesome would be uncharted territory for me. I’d act confident, like I have so many women throwing themselves at me, I do it all the time. Like I’m so fucking incredible, they all have to share. And I’m sure I’d make it work. I’d lose myself in their skin, their tits, their pussies. For a little while, they’d make me forget.
“Hi.”
I saw them coming and didn’t turn. I’ve given them nothing—no eye contact, no sly smile. Apparently I didn’t need to.
I take a sip of my drink. “Evening.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” one of them says, the smell of tequila coming off her. “I’m Amy. Sabrina and I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been sitting here all by yourself.”
I nod, still not quite looking at them. “Yeah.”
Amy lifts her ass up onto the barstool next to me and slides on, crossing her legs. Sabrina stands next to her, chewing on her lower lip.
“Do you want some company?” Amy asks.
I take a deep breath. Do I? I’ve felt like shit for weeks, and nothing helps. It would be nice to feel something else, even though I know it won’t last. I look at Amy out of the corner of my eye. She licks her lips, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
I buy time by taking another drink.
“In case we’re not being clear,” Amy says, leaning close, her voice sultry and low, “Sabrina and I would both like to know if you want company tonight.”
I swallow. They’re not looking for emotion—no truth, no expectations. Just sex. Just a wild and crazy experience with some guy they don’t know. I could take them home, fuck them both to pieces, and send them on their way. It would be everything they’re looking for. No one else would have to know.
I’d know.
“Amy,” I say, finally turning toward her. Straight blond hair frames her face, and her thick eye shadow sparkles, even in the dim light. Her lips have a hint of bright pink lipstick; the rest probably rubbed off on the glasses of all the drinks she’s had. Her eyes aren’t quite focused. “I love that you came over here to talk to me. That was really brave. But, as tempting as you are…” I look her up and down, like I’m enjoying what I see, then do the same to Sabrina. “I’m afraid I have to decline.”
Sabrina instantly looks dejected. Damn it. I was trying to let them down easy.
Amy doesn’t seem to want to give up. She tilts her head and brushes her hair behind her shoulder. “Are you sure?” She trails a finger up my arm.
I look her in the eyes, holding her gaze for a long moment, and she freezes. “I’m sorry, Amy, but I can’t. My heart belongs to someone else, and I can’t do that to her.”
Their expressions instantly change—eyebrows drawn in, little frowns crossing their mouths.
“Aw,” Amy says. “You look so sad.”
I toss back the rest of my drink and stand. “Yeah, well, I deserve it. Can I get a cab for you? I’d like to make sure you get home safe.”
They look at each other, and Amy answers. “No, I don’t think we’re ready to call it yet.”
I smile at both of them. “Have a good night, then, ladies. It was very nice meeting you.”
I set my glass down on the bar and walk out the door without looking back.
The smell of food fills my car. I haven’t had much of an appetite, but I have to admit, it’s making me hungry. I picked up a turkey dinner for two from Metro Market—sliced turkey breast, stuffing, green bean casserole, butter rolls, and two slices of pumpkin pie. In the past, I’ve cooked for Dad on Thanksgiving, but I didn’t have the energy for it this year. It’s all I can do to get a takeout version and bring it to his place.
He suggested we just have dinner in his building’s cafeteria, but that would mean sitting in a room with other people. I haven’t seen my dad since everything blew up in my face with Braxton, and I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. If I fall apart—and there’s a very good chance I will—I don’t need a bunch of witnesses.
I can’t get that horrible night out of my mind. I still don’t know what happened to flip Braxton’s switch. That morning, he was fine. More than fine. He was all kisses and whispered I love yous. Of course, he had his cock in me five minutes after we woke up, so there’s that. Apparently he spent the last several months thinking with his dick, and when his brain caught up he freaked out.
What I don’t understand
is why. Why did this happen?
He denied cheating on me, and despite how hurt I am, I believe him. He’s always been a player, but he’s never been a cheater. Did things simply get too intense? Or is this just how he operates? He has his fun and moves on. I’ve never seen the dynamics of one of his relationships closely enough to know how things go down. From the outside, I’ve seen him go through a lot of women, but I never knew if he acted serious when he was with them. Did he tell them all he loved them? Is that just part of his game?
I don’t want to believe that, but I feel so stupid for thinking I was special. I don’t know what to think anymore.
I bring the food upstairs to my dad’s place. He greets me like normal, and I do my best to act like I’m okay. He watches me set out our dinner with a furrow between his brows, so I know I’m not going to be able to hide anything from him. I have to tell him anyway, but I don’t want to. He was the only other person in my life who knew, who saw Braxton and I together, acting like a couple. If I admit to him that it’s over, I have to face the awful reality that it’s true. Braxton used me, and left.
I try to make small talk, but it doesn’t work very well, so I lapse into silence while we eat.
Dad slowly wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I look down at my plate, my food hardly touched. I don’t want to say it.
“Is this about Braxton?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Have you talked to him?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “I haven’t heard from him for several weeks. I’ve been wondering what’s wrong.”
He left my dad, too. Fucking hell. “Dad, he…” I’m not sure what to say. I can’t even badmouth him. That’s how fucked-up this breakup is. I should want to call him an asshole and tell my dad how much I hate him.
But I don’t hate him at all.
I take a breath, hoping my burning eyes don’t betray me. “He ended it.”
“Oh, Kylie,” Dad says. He reaches out and puts his twisted hand on top of mine.
Tears stream down my face. There’s no stopping them.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says.
I clamp my hand over my mouth and cry. I don’t try to stop. Dad is blessedly quiet, letting me sob. I’ve cried a lot already, but here, with my dad’s hand touching mine, the dam breaks. Hard.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, when I catch my breath. “I made such a mess of my life. I never should have fallen for him.”
“I wish I understood what happened,” he says. “Braxton loves you, Kylie. I don’t know why he’s doing this.”
“No,” I say, my voice emphatic. “No, he does not love me. Maybe in some weird Braxton world, he thought what he felt was love, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t real.”
“I don’t believe that,” Dad says.
“Why are you taking his side?” I ask. “I didn’t ask for this. He came home one night and that was it. He said it was a mistake—that we should have stayed friends, and he couldn’t do it anymore. Do you know how much that hurt?”
“I’m not taking his side, sweetheart,” Dad says. “But I know Braxton, better than he realizes. I’m crippled, but I’m not blind. I know how he is with women, but I also know he’s loved you for years. He tried very hard to hide it, but I knew. He always looked at you the way I was afraid a man would look at you.”
“Yeah, Dad, he looked at me like he wanted something from me,” I say. “And sorry, I know I’m your daughter … but let’s just say he got it, and that was all he wanted.”
“No,” Dad says. “He looked at you like he loved you, even when you were both too young to know what that was.”
I sniff and wipe the tears under my eyes. “Dad, Braxton doesn’t know what love is.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
“I know, Dad,” I say. “I just have to figure out how to move on.”
“Time,” he says.
I look up and meet his eyes. We never talk about my mother, but I hear it in his voice. He knows exactly what I’m feeling right now.
“Time helps,” he says. “It will get easier. And one day you’ll realize you haven’t thought about him for a while. Then it hurts again, because you feel bad about that. Eventually, even that starts to feel normal.” He puts his hand on mine again. “I’m sorry, Kylie. I know how much he meant to you. Do you want me to call in any favors?”
I smile a little. “No.”
He pats my hand. “Okay, sweetheart. You let me know if you change your mind.”
We finish our meal, but it’s not a very happy Thanksgiving. I clean up and kiss him goodbye. My heart feels so heavy, like it’s taken up permanent residence in my feet, and a fresh wave of tears overtakes me as I drive home.
I flop down on the couch in my apartment, so emotionally exhausted I can’t even cry anymore. The fact that it’s the start of the holiday season only makes it worse. I think about my mother, and her new family. I bet they’re all sitting around some huge table, laughing and eating and drinking expensive wine. I wonder if she thinks about me at all. Does she look at the people sitting around her table and feel like someone is missing? Does she ever think about sending me a Christmas card?
Probably not.
I’ll have to spend Christmas with my dad, but other than that, I decide to skip the holidays this year. No presents, no decorations, no parties. I’m sure Selene will throw another New Year’s Eve party, but there’s no fucking way I’m going. I’ve completely avoided her since Braxton left me, and I don’t know how I’m going to face her again. The loss of Selene cuts through me like another knife. I don’t know what to do. Everything about her reminds me of Braxton; as much as I desperately want to lean on her right now, I can’t.
I don’t know if she and I can recover, and it’s brutal as fuck because none of it is her fault.
It’s not even nine, but I don’t think I can handle life anymore today. I go to bed, wishing I could wake up in a world where the people I love don’t abandon me.
“Well, this is pretty much the worst Christmas in the history of ever.” Selene looks at me with a bored expression, a glass of spiked eggnog in her hand. She decorated the house with a huge Christmas tree, lighted garlands, and some sort of candle that makes the whole place smell faintly like gingerbread.
“It isn’t Christmas,” I say.
“Well, it’s supposed to be our Christmas. You’re the one who had to be a pain in the ass and not come over on Christmas Day.”
I don’t give two shits about the holidays. I would have ignored the whole thing completely, but Selene insisted I come over.
I take a sip of the Scotch she bought me. It’s smooth, goes down easy. I closed down the gym for the week, which is great news. It means I can get drunk and stay that way for a while.
“What did you expect?” I ask. “Fucking Christmas carolers?”
Selene scowls. “Why are you in such a mood?”
“I’m not in a mood,” I say, although I’m not even trying to hide it from her anymore. I’m too fucking tired.
She gets up and takes her glass to the kitchen. “I don’t know why I’m drinking this. It isn’t even good. Can I have some of your Scotch?”
“Yeah, but bring it here and top me off.”
I hear the bottle clink. “Fuck, Brax, we just opened it. Did you drink this much already?”
“Stop trying to be my mother.”
She laughs. “Someone has to be.”
She brings the bottle over and pours another splash. She tips the mouth away and I hold the glass up, raising my eyebrows at her until she pours more.
“Okay,” she says, “I guess this is the kind of Christmas we’re having this year.” She takes the bottle back to the kitchen. “Have you talked to Kylie recently? What’s she doing this week?”
Just hearing her name is a knife to my gut. I try not to flinch, although Selene can’t see my face from where I’m sitting. “No, I haven’t talk
ed to her.”
“Something is going on with her. I’m really worried.”
I sit up. “Worried? Why?”
“Well, for one, she’s hardcore avoiding me.” She sits down on the other side of the sectional. “I’ve hardly seen her. It’s so weird. I text her and she answers, but she cancels our plans every single time. I know she’s busy with her design stuff, but it seems like it’s more than that.”
“I have no idea.”
“When was the last time you guys hung out?” Selene asks.
I don’t want to think about the last time I saw her—her cold and angry face, the edge of hatred in her voice. “Fuck, Selene, I don’t know.”
“Don’t get all weird.” She pauses, taking a sip of her Scotch. When she speaks again, her voice is different. Soft. Worried. “I think the guy she was seeing messed her up. I think he did something awful to her.”
My chest clenches. “What?”
“I don’t know for sure—she hasn’t told me,” she says. “But that’s the thing. She won’t tell me anything. He wasn’t some guy she hooked up with a few times. It went on for months, as far as I can tell. But she kept the whole thing hidden, like there was something wrong. Think about it. There was something wrong. She was with someone she didn’t want us to know about. I bet she knew we wouldn’t approve of him. I think something really dark was going on, and she didn’t want us to know about it.”
I take a sip of my drink. I don’t know what to say.
“Whoever he was, he must have done something awful to her,” she says. “I think that’s why she’s avoiding me. She got hurt really bad, and she doesn’t want to tell me.”
Selene’s eyes glisten with a hint of tears. I can feel her concern, her emotions leaking into me.
“I hope she’s okay,” I say, my voice soft. “But I honestly don’t know.”
She taps her fingernails against her glass, looking at me through narrowed eyes. “What is up with you lately?”
“Nothing.” I need more Scotch.
“You say that like you can hide things from me,” she says. “I know you. Something has been going on and you’re not talking about it. God, between Kylie ignoring me and you being all broody and weird—” She stops talking midstream, her mouth hanging open. “Oh my god.”
Always Have: (Bad Boy Romance) Page 16